Raphie is Sleepy
by Tigan-Ada
Summary: A bit of brotherly goodness between Raphael and Leonardo (2003cartoon)


_Raphie is Sleepy_

_By Tigan-Ada_

The old dojo carpet is very thin beneath my kneeling forelegs. It makes me glad I'm wearing my knee pads or it would be wearing badly on my joint bones.

I got up early and quietly prepared myself for morning training as I do most days, eating breakfast and tightening on my attire without bothering anyone. My two younger brothers are still organising themselves; they rarely miss out on making it in time, able to get themselves ready in under a half hour.

But Raphael is still nowhere in sight; I can't hear him or feel his lumbering weight vibrating the floor from afar.

As leader, it's my duty _not_ to baby my followers but to keep them in check – and as their eldest it's my timeless duty to kick them in the butt and keep them out of useless trouble, heheh. I get up and hurry to Raphael's bedroom, pressing my ear to the door; sure enough, he's snoring his head off.

I open the door and call out, "Raphael, training in five."

Usually that gets him with a start, scuttling and jumping out of bed in a half-awake rush; but he doesn't so much as stir. Great, this means I have to do this manually. I walk in and steel myself for his usual grumpy moods; I've never enjoyed them, especially with its sharp edged history that digs into me whenever I reflect on our young teen years… when I stood untested and naïve against it, hurt and trying to figure it out.

It used to make me depressed, being the target of his self-absorbed ire… made worse by my equally candid pains to do right; I've since stopped letting him affect me so, instead putting effort into my own maturity and making our relationship once again healthy on my side and forever hoping he'll meet me halfway… but this time without the yearning obsession that drove me headlong into the slumps.

Thankfully, he _is_ working on his side. It took time, but neither of us wants to lose our bond as brothers.

…He's all bundled up in a mess of blankets, the quilt looking so cosy scrunched up against his idly curled form. And now I have to wake him…

Inhaling deeply I give him a shake, "Raph?"

Nothing. "Raph? Raphael?" Still nothing. "Raphie is such a cutesy wootsy sweetie pie!" NOTHING.

This time I pinch his cheeks and speak loudly in a patronising woman-like voice, "Aren't you so lucky you're getting married to Casey!"

…Okay that _should've_ worked!

I mildly wonder what time he went to bed and for how long he's repeated the late-night pattern to leave him clinging to sleep so deeply today.

I shake him in a gentle and continuous rhythm while whispering his name, waiting until his eyes finally flicker open. As they do he comes into himself enough to squirm, trying to be the one to get my hands off first in a weak fidget in a show of being in charge in some sleepily logical way.

His line of sight is unfocused as his heavy eyelids edge back downwards, a murmur leaving his lips, "Don't bother me…"

I lean over, placing my hand to his cheek; normally he'd huff and shrug beneath his blankets, but he lies still, eyes closed, unresisting… and there's not even a flinch in his face, indicating how remarkably slumberous he remains.

"Gather yourself and wake up," I softly move my thumb across his cheek, encouraging his senses to awaken… and to irritate his pride in this little quiet taunt.

He doesn't bat my hand away. That is something for him to be so serenely unbothered at my light teasing, allowing me to withdraw my hand at my leisure. And still not a twitch.

I inwardly laugh; he's so tired, "Sensei-"

"huhn…"

"-will be in here if you don't move it."

He sighs, finally stirring from his immobility, "Alright, alright…"

…Only to go still again. I crouch down, resting my chin to my knees as I raise an eye-ridge at him, face to face with him lying on the mattress.

This time I press my finger between his brows – hard, "Raphael. You are ninja. Get up."

He frowns, the creases knotting around my fingertip, and groans with a whingey sob. He rolls over moaning at his uncomfortable predicament that can have nothing done about it except getting up, sucking it up and making himself get to bed at a better time.

If he were sickly or injured, perhaps depressed or suffering another bout of anxiety, depending on the severity and reasons I'd let him sleep in and relax without pressure, but thankfully this isn't the case.

I stand up and entertain the fun idea of grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him out of bed, maybe playfully wrestle him on the floor to better rouse him; I'm in the mood to joke around with him, but he's barely awake and would no doubt be frustrated and feel disrespected.

So I dismiss the idea for another day and rub his shoulder instead, "Do you want me to bring you breakf-"

"…stop…"

I pause, my hand stilling, "What?"

His voice was too small and faint, too sleepy, to even be mistaken for a bitter challenge.

"nhn…" with great effort he nudges his shoulder beneath my palm, "…makin' me tired…"

Oh…! Oops…

Yet I can't help but smile and start to instead professionally rub his shoulder, kneading my hand along his arm hidden by the quilt, "Is _this_ what you were referring to?"

His expression relaxes, but with the slightest reluctance, trying to still awaken some but contently submitting to the massage. His brow tries to work his eyes open, his lips subtly move in silent protests, but he's willing to fall back asleep – his only incentive for anything else is simply with what has to come about.

It's so easy to spot the second he tips back into slumber, his entire form melting into tranquil repose as soft snores escape his parted mouth.

He's going to be quite cranky with me when I slip out and tell Sensei he's fallen back asleep… heheheh!

THE END


End file.
